


Aftermath

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, BDSM - Aftercare, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-19
Updated: 2008-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "aftercare of a BDSM scene. Gabriel takes care of Mohinder."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Winner Best Hurt/Comfort @ the Heroes Slash Awards: Winter 2009

The metal is warm from Mohinder’s skin and stained around the edges with his sticky, drying blood where the handcuffs have abraded his wrists. He whimpers as Gabriel releases him from the headboard, eyes glazed and dazed as Gabriel gently lowers him onto the mattress and massages his arms. His muscles are numb, quivering from the strain of holding his body taut for so many hours and the uncomfortable prickle of pins and needles is all he can feel as Gabriel’s firm and insistent fingers work in circles to increase his circulation. Gabriel’s lips follow in the wake of his hands, tenderly kissing the skin that he had stretched, struck and cut while Mohinder begged for more. Then, no matter how much Mohinder had pleaded, Gabriel had deemed that he had had enough and had brought Mohinder off in a blinding, searing rush of pleasure and pain.

The aftershocks of his orgasm seem unending. Even now, free of his restraints, Mohinder can feel his body convulse spasmodically. He can’t speak or think or move. He is utterly spent, every part of his body burning and aching with the echoes of his pleasure. Gabriel presses the tip of a straw between his dry lips and brushes the sweaty, mussed curls from his forehead as he watches Mohinder greedily gulp down the cool water.

‘Easy, easy,’ he whispers as Mohinder chokes, taking too much, too fast for his body’s sluggish responses. Water and spit trickle down his chin but Gabriel is there, wiping it up without being asked and kissing his lips softly.

‘Everything’s ok,’ Gabriel murmurs in his ear. He repeats the words over and over, like a mantra, until Mohinder’s eyes slide shut and he concentrates not on what Gabriel is saying but on the low, tender rumble of his voice and the feel of Gabriel’s breath on the back of his neck. Mohinder loves the pain – the crack of the belt as it hits his skin and the burning tear of the razor as it slices his back – but this is good too and maybe even better.

Gabriel laps at the grazes on his wrists. His tongue is warm and soft as it sweeps over the torn skin in steady, rhythmic waves. There must be a deeper bruise or a stubborn patch of blood just below the centre of Mohinder’s palm because Gabriel pauses there, kissing now too, lips working in tandem alongside his tongue as he lavishes tender attention on that one spot.

The pain is minimal. Mohinder’s whole body throbs as the endorphins that had flooded his body begin to ebb. The ghostlike brush of Gabriel’s mouth against his skin is hardly an uncomfortable addition to the myriad of sensations that trip across his over stimulated nerves. But then lips are replaced with alcohol wipes and Mohinder hisses, jerking his arm weakly to try and pull away from the unexpected sting. Gabriel is stronger and holds him steady, mumbling apologies but firmly refusing to let Mohinder shy away from being cleaned. He is mercifully quick though, and soon Mohinder can hear the rustle of paper as Gabriel rips open a package of sterile gauze. The bandage is soft against his skin and when Gabriel finally lets him pull back his arms, Mohinder brings his wrists to his lips.

The gauze is dry and clean, and it soaks up the droplets of spit and water from Mohinder’s mouth as he brushes his lips against the bandages. He enjoys the unique tactile sensation that he only gets to indulge in on nights like this. He likes the sight of the pure white cotton against his dark skin, bruising darker still, and the antiseptic smell has come to mean comfort. He inhales deeply and nuzzles himself deeper in the sheets.

He can hear Gabriel chuckling at the happy sounds he is making, but Mohinder is too content to care. Exhaustion is catching up to him and he reaches for Gabriel, wanting to pull him down beside him so that they can fall asleep pressed together but Gabriel takes his hand and places it back on the mattress. He kisses Mohinder’s shoulders and maps the broken flesh of his back with long and nimble fingers. He traces every cut, stroking Mohinder’s hair when he tries to wriggle away from the touch. It is more painful now when Gabriel cleanses his wounds. They are deeper and more violent here than the incidental damage to his wrists. Gabriel is always as precise and thorough in what he inflicts on Mohinder as he is in everything else he does. Maybe that’s why Mohinder can never stop himself from crawling back and begging for more, cannot stop himself from needing just one more strike of the belt or one more slash of the blade even as his body screams for mercy around him. Gabriel is simply too damn good at this.

Gabriel mutters to himself at the bloodied sight before him. Mohinder knows that he is admonishing himself for going too far, he always does and as he does, all Mohinder can ever think about is how to push him further next time. With every new threshold of pain that they shatter, Mohinder’s pleasure increases to levels he is incapable of describing.

Gabriel kisses down his spine. The sharp scent of disinfectant floods the air as he opens a bottle of surgical alcohol. The cotton wool is wet and icy cold against Mohinder’s skin when it comes, and the hoarseness in his throat is all that keeps him from screaming again as Gabriel meticulously cleans every lesion on his body, from the back of his neck to the bottom curve of his ass. By the time Gabriel is done, Mohinder is shaking and whimpering. Goose pimples cover his body and he can’t be sure that he hasn’t been crying. When Gabriel hits him or cuts him, makes him bruise and bleed, ache, groan and whimper, Mohinder never screams except in ecstasy and he never weeps except in pleasure. But he loses himself completely in the tender aftermath. However antagonistic their relationship can be at times, Gabriel never teases him. He just wipes a tissue across Mohinder’s cheeks, collecting the tears that Mohinder cannot stop from falling. Gabriel whispers sounds of comfort in his ears until the tremble in his body ceases.

When Mohinder’s back has been covered in gauze and surgical tape to Gabriel’s satisfaction, he is slowly and gently rolled onto his back. He wants to sleep now, limbs heavy and muscles starting to lock up after the night’s exertions but Mohinder knows that if he tries to drift off, Gabriel will shake him awake and force him to eat and drink. So he tries his best to keep his eyes open and focused. It’s difficult. His eyelids feel heavy and the light is starting to feel like it burns straight through to the back of his skull.

Gabriel cups the back of his neck and tilts his head up as he pushes his fingers into Mohinder’s mouth and places two aspirin on the back of his tongue. The straw and the cold water are back but this time Mohinder is coordinated enough not to splutter and he swallows the painkillers without incident. He wrinkles his nose at the chalky taste that now coats the back of his throat. The drugs are only enough to take the edge off, something to stop him from waking in the night, whining pitifully as his muscles cramp unrelentingly, but not enough to dull the pleasurable haze of pain that surrounds him.

As if in reward for swallowing the pills docilely, Gabriel offers him a square of chocolate. Mohinder’s hands are still shaking too much to take it from him and his movements are lethargic, like he is trying to move through water. Gabriel feeds it to him instead. Perhaps it should feel emasculating to have Gabriel reduce him to this, even if only for a few hours, but it never does. It feels like bliss. Mohinder hungrily eats the offered chocolate and sucks on Gabriel’s fingers too when they press between his lips.

‘Good boy,’ Gabriel moans appreciatively and his kisses rain down over Mohinder’s face and hair. In his brattier moods, when Gabriel has held back on his blows and left Mohinder not so satisfied, they have argued bitterly about the medicine. Mohinder likes the pain, he tries to argue but it doesn’t matter. He is at Gabriel’s mercy when they choose to play this way and on this subject Gabriel refuses to be swayed. In the morning, bruised and battered, Mohinder is always grateful that Gabriel stood firm. The ache that seems to seep down to the very marrow of Mohinder’s bones will flirt on the wrong side of pain if Gabriel doesn’t force the pills down Mohinder’s throat when he has to.

With a warm, wet washcloth, Gabriel cleans him. He wipes the sweat from Mohinder’s neck and his chest, cleaning down and under his arms, over his stomach and between his legs. He stops frequently to wring out the washcloth and wet it again from the basins of warm water that are now beside the bed. Mohinder wonders drowsily where the water has come from and if Gabriel has used his radioactive powers to heat it while Mohinder was too deep in subspace to be aware of what was going on around him. The questions must read clearly in his expression because Gabriel tilts his chin until Mohinder can see the electric kettle sitting on the floor, plugged into the wall where the lamp usually stands. He can vaguely recall the rumble of the water boiling but his pleasure had been so strong then that the sound had barely registered. Mohinder whispers, ‘Sorry,’ but Gabriel simply smiles down on him and rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. ‘It’s ok.’

Gabriel is cleaning his crotch now and Mohinder spreads his legs with a moan to give him better access. The washcloth is warm and soothing against his skin as Gabriel rubs his inner thighs, his balls and along the crease of his ass. He scours away the lube and semen, then washes the same skin again with a fresh cloth solely because he knows Mohinder likes the attention. Mohinder tries to sit, to watch Gabriel’s hands working between his legs, but Gabriel presses gently at his chest and forces him to lie down once more. Gabriel knows he’ll only get lightheaded if he tries to sit up and his arms will give out if he tries to support himself.

Gabriel wraps the cloth around his flaccid cock and cleans him with long, tender strokes. Mohinder isn’t capable of getting hard again, not after the intense orgasms he has already achieved tonight, but the touch still feels good and better still when Gabriel takes the cloth away and replaces his hand with his lips. He kisses up and down Mohinder’s soft shaft, licking his cock and his balls and eventually sucking Mohinder’s limp dick into his mouth. Mohinder’s hands find his hair and stroke Gabriel’s face as he rests heavily on Gabriel’s tongue. Gabriel’s mouth is warm and the rhythm he sets up is slow and intensely comforting. Gabriel suckles on him until his eyes flutter shut and his breathing evens out. Mohinder is content to fall asleep to the constant, tender suction around his cock.

But he knows it isn’t time for sleep yet when Gabriel pulls away. He presses one last kiss to the tip of Mohinder’s dick and one to the root before he lovingly wipes Mohinder dry with a thick, soft towel. It isn’t until he is released from the warmth of Gabriel’s mouth that Mohinder realises that he is cold. The water that had been hot enough to soothe his muscles as Gabriel cleaned him has cooled and now he’s shivering, teeth chattering as he lies uncovered and completely nude on the bed. Gabriel works quickly to dry him off but the damage is done. The chill has made his muscle cramp and he whimpers miserably at the unwanted pain in his calves.

Gabriel takes his leg in his hands, forcing Mohinder to stretch it straight, and then bend at the knee and bring it to his chest. He repeats the motion over and over, his large hands all the while massaging the cramping muscles. When his leg ceases to spasm and jerk in his grip, Gabriel lowers him lovingly to the bed and then repeats the massage on his other leg, staving off more pain before it develops. Strong, firm fingers work higher, easing the tenseness in his thighs and stomach, then higher still, dislodging the knots in his overstrained arms, chest and shoulders. Gabriel’s hands curl around his neck and his fingers dart nimbly up and down Mohinder’s spine, rolling his head for him with thumbs on either side of his jaw. He opens his eyes to see Gabriel smiling down on him, smug at the sight of Mohinder completely slack and plaint beneath his hands, basking in the attention that Gabriel is bestowing upon him.

Mohinder can barely taste himself when Gabriel kisses him. He must taste like skin and soap and nothing else at this point. Mohinder thinks that he is never as absolutely clean as he is after Gabriel has bathed him like this. It seems fitting then, he supposes, that he has never done anything filthier than the things he lets Gabriel do him when they are together this way. The pillow is moved from behind his head and another softer one, with a fresh pillowcase that smells of fabric softener, is placed in its stead.

Through half lidded eyes, Mohinder watches Gabriel quickly sluice the washcloth over himself to wash away the worst of the sweat and come that clings to his pubic hair, and to clean the bloody smears from his hands. A warm blanket is tucked around him and then Gabriel is finally lying beside him.

‘Do you want more water?’ he asks. Mohinder shakes his head and nuzzles against his chest, one arm draped over his narrow hips and one leg looped between Gabriel’s, the ball of his foot ruffling the dark hair on Gabriel’s calf. Gabriel’s hands rest lightly on his back, careful not to disturb the layers of gauze that protect his wounds. He kisses the top of Mohinder’s head and the last thing Mohinder hears before he drifts to sleep is, ‘I love you.’


End file.
